


better than none

by ipreferaviators



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fisting, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-25
Updated: 2012-10-25
Packaged: 2017-11-17 00:13:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/545377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ipreferaviators/pseuds/ipreferaviators
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles tried to suppress another shudder at the words.</p>
<p>"You just...you're just <i>taking</i> it, taking me. You should see yourself."</p>
            </blockquote>





	better than none

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cherrybina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrybina/gifts).



> For [cherrybina](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrybina/pseuds/cherrybina), since she is sick and also got optically abused by a flashlight. :-(
> 
> Title from Florence and the Machine's "Kiss With A Fist." Thanks to [la_dissonance](http://archiveofourown.org/users/la_dissonance/pseuds/la_dissonance) for the beta. <3

"Oh, _fuck_ ," Stiles breathed. He was trying to keep quiet, knowing that Scott and Isaac weren't far away. But Derek just spread his fingers even more, straining the limits of the pleasure-pain balance established by the three fingers currently buried deep inside Stiles.

For humans, the 100 yards and two abandoned train cars between them would have been enough to maintain a safe (and silent) distance, but Stiles wasn't dealing with humans. He was dealing with werewolves, whose super-hearing and super-smell just meant that any walks of shame were ten times more likely and twenty times more embarrassing.

"God, Stiles," Derek breathed back, and Stiles tried to suppress another shudder at the words. "You just...you're just _taking_ it, taking me. You should see yourself."

"I'd rather not," Stiles tried to respond, but the words were garbled in the moan he tried to hold back when Derek added another finger. Four fingers, almost Derek's whole hand, were inside Stiles now, moving with a slow confidence Stiles wished he shared.

"You should, though," Derek said. "You should see the way you move against me, the way you want this, want _me_."

Stiles groaned, too loud in the otherwise silent space.

"I don't need to see it to feel it," he said, pushing back against the pressure of Derek's hand. He could feel the stretch when Derek's fingers bottomed out, could feel it and _wanted_ it. "Come on," he whined. "More."

"Greedy," Derek said, but there was no trace of judgment in his voice, no sense of humiliation or superiority. Derek sounded wrecked, and that only made Stiles push harder, whine louder.

"Fine," Derek said, "you want more? Come and get it."

And Stiles could feel the tip of Derek's thumb pressing against his opening, light but _there_ , and he had to take a few deep breaths to keep from coming. He stopped moving, letting himself get used to the idea of having so much of Derek inside of him. After a few seconds, though, Stiles couldn't stop himself, and he shoved back hard. Derek's thumb breached the ring of muscles, and Stiles couldn't hold back his sudden intake of breath.

"Okay?" Derek asked, and Stiles rushed to nod. He was fine, it was just...a lot. For someone who'd been a virgin three weeks ago, this was a big step. And Stiles wanted to take it, he _did_ , but it might take him a moment to get used to it. That was all.

"Yeah," Stiles finally managed to say. He hated how unsure he sounded, because he didn't want to be. He wanted Derek to know how good it felt, how much he wanted Derek inside of him, filling him up until there was no room left. But for once, he didn't have the words.

Derek seemed to understand, though, because he pressed harder, twisting his wrist to open Stiles up even more. Stiles couldn't stop the stuttered movements of his hips, back towards Derek and shying away in turn. But Derek just let him move, let Stiles fuck himself on Derek's hand in short, aborted jerks. After a minute or so, though, the feeling of not-quite-enough returned, and Stiles shoved back even harder. Derek's hand followed his movements, and Stiles whined.

"Do it," Stiles panted. "Just. Fuck, do it."

Derek's groan was louder than anything Stiles had said, and with it came even more pressure. Derek's knuckles spread Stiles almost too far, and the pain was almost too much. Stiles breathed through it, concentrating on the idea of having Derek's whole hand inside him, instead of the actual sensation. He felt himself drifting away from the feeling, getting lost in his own mind, but a sharp pain on his hip brought him back.

"No," Derek said, firm and loud. Stiles felt Derek's other hand move away from his side, where Derek had apparently pinched him. "You stay with me, or I don't do this."

Stiles nodded, more than a little desperate. He hadn't meant to zone out, but there was just so much. So much pain, so much pleasure, and he wasn't sure he knew how to process everything. But he didn't want Derek to pull out and leave him empty, not yet, not when Stiles still needed _more_.

"I'm here," Stiles said, his voice little more than a cracked whisper. It was the best he could do.

"Okay," Derek said, "okay." And Stiles felt one more push, one more painful burst of a stretch, and then Derek was inside him. Derek's whole hand was inside him, and Stiles couldn't stop the high-pitched keening sound he made. Derek's free hand grabbed at his hip, trying to hold him still, but Stiles was too much in motion, too desperate for it, and he just couldn't stop. Couldn't stop moving, couldn't stop the sounds he was making. Derek's hand was pulling out, pushing back in, and Stiles struggled to get enough air. He was about to come, about to fall apart, about to lose control of himself entirely. He felt himself cry out, Derek's name on his lips, and then his vision whited out, the sensations too much for his brain to handle. He fell forward, against the thin mattress Derek kept in the train car, breathing in the scent of Derek against the pillow. He could feel himself coming, pulsing against the sheets, but it was almost like it was happening to another person, another Stiles. His brain was floating, ebbing in and out of consciousness like a lazy tide, the sensation only disrupted by the faint sounds of someone whimpering. It took a few minutes before Stiles realized it was him making those sounds, but by then, Derek had shifted both of them until they were lying down on the bed, Stiles's back to Derek's front, and Derek had pulled out.

"That was amazing," Derek whispered in Stiles's ear, and Stiles shivered. "You were amazing."

Stiles couldn't respond with anything but a broken noise, but Derek just nosed against Stiles's hair and made a hushing sound.

"Sleep now," Derek said softly, and Stiles didn't argue. He just let the tide take him out, out, and into unconsciousness, the feel of Derek's breath against the nape of his neck the only constant.


End file.
